


Finding Her Constant

by blackhawkcawcaw



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, I really suck at summaries, Multichapter, Sister-Sister Relationship, Slow Burn, like ignore it please, like slower than slow, will add tags as I go because I don't know where this is going whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhawkcawcaw/pseuds/blackhawkcawcaw
Summary: When Sansa Stark had reclaimed the North with her half-brother Jon from the Bolton's, she had told herself that she would not be caught off-guard again. Not after everything she had borne to get them to where they were today.Nevertheless, she found herself once again caught off guard, although this time for the right reasons, because behind that blushing and clumsy squire she once thought she knew back in King's Landing is a friend in her life she didn't know she had been missing.





	1. Chapter One

Sansa Stark - _The Lady of Winterfell_ \- cut a fine figure standing on the balcony, overlooking the courtyard, standing as still as if she were cut from marble. The only indication she was not a statue was the way her red hair seemed to come to life, flickering in the harsh northern wind, as if they were flames licking her face. She was much transformed from the girl in King’s Landing, the girl captive of the Bolton’s, the girl running from the hounds in the icy depths of winter. She looked sure of herself, _steely, determined, hardened_.

Podrick Payne, hadn’t realised he was staring, not until he was struck a blow to the stomach by Brienne, who gave a generous swing as she always does when they’re sparring. She never shied from packing a punch when sparring. “ _They certainly won’t swing softly when they’re trying to lop off your head_ ” is how she justified it. Podrick sometimes begrudgingly thought, after nursing one too many bruises at the end of a long hard day of training, that she did it to let out some pent up anger of hers. She was a women of few words, and even fewer smiles, but when they came out it was a great day for Podrick. He wasn’t apprehensive in her company like he used to be, hell he could even crack a few japes here and there, when the time was right. But sometimes he wondered, when she looked pensive, just what his Lady was thinking about.

“Podrick” exclaimed Brienne, as Podrick keeled over collecting himself as the blow knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Sorry, sorry- let’s try again” he wheezed, trying to brush off the fact that he was very clearly distracted. He could already feel the lecture coming but was surprised when Brienne simply gave him an odd look, and he could’ve sworn he saw her gaze flicker in the direction in which he was staring. But she said nothing. Much to his relief Sansa had since moved and he hoped she hadn’t bared witness to that.

“We can take a break, besides we’ve been going for at least an hour and the daylights fading” she relented, giving a small smile that Podrick almost had to squint to catch. He beamed in return, in his usual way, and set about putting away their sparring swords. He then silently went about his duties before turning in for supper, beginning in the stables. He’d begun brushing down his and Lady Brienne’s mare’s when he felt a presence gently approach from the entryway.

“You _know_ we have a Stablemaster for that” she reminded him, amusement riddled in her voice. He was not surprised it was her, for she’d made quite a habit of talking to him when she found a spare moment of solace.

He smiled, but did not turn around, instead diligently carrying on with rubbing down his mare with hay.

It seemed odd to Podrick how over the space of a matter of months, him and Lady Sansa had become quite close, and some would even argue “friends”, but he doubted anybody had noticed. He could not pinpoint when they began talking, but it was a welcome change, so used to seeing the girl – _well woman_ – so closed off from the world.

Sansa could not pin point the exact moment either but she, against her knowledge, had always trusted Podrick. Sansa saw him as a kind face, a constant in her life, one which she hadn’t had the luxury of having in quite a few years past. _She’d lost so many – Father, Mother, Robb, Rickon, Jeyne Poole- she’d lost count. Could even argue she’d lost Bran._ Now it was different. She was home, she was safe. Her sister was home. Jon was home – although presently absent, much to her dismay. She had Yohn Royce, Lady Brienne, and her loyal quire. She would make as many constants in her life as she could. For the first time in her life, _she_ could decide.

“M’lady” he grinned. “Lady Brienne taught me that one should always care for their own stead, builds a bond” he paused “although I think she’s just punishing me in her own little way”. Sansa chuckled, knowing he wasn’t serious. She’d discovered recently that he had quite the humour on him, something which caught her off guard. She hadn’t known him well as a boy, always stumbling, muttering, and blushing. She liked this new Podrick. But whether this was what he was always like, she would probably never know. She just knew he used to be intimidated by her presence. Now it was different, and she liked it. Was glad for it really. _Finally, a friend. She hadn’t had one for quite some time._

“I’ve just received a raven from White Harbour” she sighed, her demeanour shifting all at once, as he stole her a quick glance.

“Your brother?” he prompted, turning back to brushing down his horse.

“Sailed into White Harbour, with their large envoy. They’ll be a matter of days, along with Lord Tyrion, and _their_ Dragon Queen”.

Podrick caught her tone, sensing her apprehensiveness. He couldn’t blame her, all things considered. “Your instincts are right in not trusting her yet” he reassured. When they were alone he felt he could speak his mind, which was rare. He had not had the pleasure of speaking so freely in all his life and was thankful for Sansa’s friendship. Even if she was his superior in every way, she never made it known to him. He liked that about her. _She was always so kind to him._

“She is after all a foreigner. She needs to prove her cause” he spoke, as she remained silent, clearly deep in thought. Not wishing to feed into her anxiety, he continued. “We’ll see soon enough what your brother sees, what Lord Tyrion sees. I’m sure of it, m’lady”. He waited patiently for her to find the words, working in comfortable silence.

“She does not know the lords of Westeros as I do. Does not understand the complexity of politics. She hasn’t lived and survived it I have. As _we_ have” she spoke, sitting herself down on a bench next to where Podrick was working. He couldn’t help but feel the heat flare up on his cheeks as she referred to them as “we”. _Just when he thought he’d grown out of his childish embarrassment._

“They won’t follow her if she evokes fear, but she’d be more foolish to fill their heads with pretty and false promises”. Podrick could sense this matter would not be settled, not until they’d seen the Dragon Queen for themselves. _Let the North decide how they view this foreign Queen._

“I did not see the woman for myself. Only her dragons” he sighed, knowing the comment wouldn’t do anything to reassure Sansa in this time. He could tell she was worried. She was wearing down her nail beds with all the picking and tearing.

“Yes, _her dragons_ ” she sighed. “Jon writes that one fell against the Army of the Dead. That alone frightens me more than the thought of dragons roaming freely in Westeros. I remember Arya telling me once - although I deigned caring for her stories as a child - the first of the great dragons was Balerion the Black Dread. With a name like that you can half imagine the sight. The last of them were as small as hounds, recluse and tamed so they would not grow”.

Podrick had finished brushing down the mare, and took a break from his work, leaning against the post of the stable, wiping his hands down. Sansa tried not to notice the ways his forearm muscles rippled, his sleeves rolled up from the labour. He caught her gaze, but did not seem to catch her so much as looking him up and down. _What had gotten into her?_

“I can reassure you, these were no hounds” he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. It had been not two weeks since he’d been in Kings Landing, on his way to a tavern with Bronn when he heard a great whoosh, sounding like hooves under the earth, or thunder rolling in the skies. The great wings spanned out before his eyes, and the two men stood, dumbstruck.

_“She has fookin’ dragons” Bronn almost laughed. “If I were Cersei right now I’d have piss running down me legs”. That was all that was said, before grabbing Podrick by the arm, insistent on the ale and company of women. Despite Bronn’s badgering that the women of King’s Landing has sorely missed his “magic cock” Podrick could not find it in him to lay with them, no matter how many cups of ale he sunk._

_His thoughts – unbidden- only went to Lady Sansa up North, the more he drank. Alone and in the North. Not that him being there would make a difference. He was hardly a man who could boast of his fighting capabilities, still just a lowly squire. But it was not that he didn’t trust her to stay safe. More Lady Brienne’s wariness of Lord Baelish had set Podrick off._

_The entire ride up he had to remind himself that she had Lady Arya at his side, the most capable of bodyguards._

_Lady Brienne and Podrick had ridden for long days and long nights, ahead of the armies travelling up the King’s Road, after that day. Lady Brienne was impatient to ride North, particularly after her small skirmish with a certain Jaime Lannister. Podrick was impatient to ride North, although he did not have it in him to pinpoint why as he sobered up the following day of drinking._

“What were they like?” she asked, caught by her mild fascination of the great beasts. To her, they were simply stories, and perhaps the idea of sensible Podrick animating them to life would give her time to deal with what’s to come. Him saying it would make her believe the stories.

He couldn’t help but smile as he said “You’ll have to see for yourself to know. I’m not much of a poet, so I’m afraid my word’s wouldn’t do it much justice”.

“I’ve never been much of a singer, but Septa Mordane always forced me to _practice_. Just like Lady Brienne makes you practice your swordplay, and you seem to have _somewhat_ improved over the years”. The amusement was dancing in her eyes, and it almost took his breath away. Seeing her like this was a rare and special thing. Seeing her like this with him was something else entirely.

“And how would you know I’ve gotten better, not worse?” he accused, a playful tone in his voice. He almost had to catch himself with his tone. _He had to be careful._

Sansa stuttered, in a rare moment of weakness, entirely intriguing the man further. He met her eyes with a challenge. She sighed, relenting “Back in King’s Landing, I would sometimes look down in the courtyard, you know the one, in Lord Tyrion’s quarters. He had that sword master for you, trained in the mornings as he was off for his meetings. I would watch you train from time to time with Shae. Sometimes because there was nothing else to do, but other times the sound of swords ringing from the courtyard below would remind me of home.”.

Now his cheeks were definitely flaming hot, and he thanked the God’s the red torchlight from the stables would mask his somewhat splotchy appearance. What had gotten into him?

“ _And_?”

“And” she continued, carefully choosing her next words wisely so she wasn’t on the defensive. “Shae and I would take wagers on how long you’d last before a blow to the stomach. Extra points for the head. I got a few nice trinkets from the sport”. She waited apprehensively for his response, afraid his silence meant she had hurt his feelings with her cruel jape.

Her anxiety diminished the second he suddenly burst out laughing, with a laugh she’d never heard the man let out, catching her and even himself quite off guard. Sansa couldn’t help but join in, and soon the two were laughing as if they were children of their time, with not a care in the world. No weight of responsibilities hanging on her shoulders. Sansa hadn’t felt her age like this since before King’s Landing. Although she always wished for what she didn’t have at that time. _Foolish Little Bird._

Podrick and Sansa had eventually collected themselves, the laughter slowly dying, Sansa even quickly wiping a stray tear that escaped her eye. The pause had sobered them up long enough to know that the moment had passed. Sansa’s thoughts in the meantime had strayed to Shae. Arguably her one friend she had in King’s Landing, her confidant. Her heart ached at the memory.

Slowly Sansa rose from the bench, wiping the creases out from her skirt calmly. He had, in the meantime, continued with grooming the horses, gently picking up their hooves to assess their condition. “Well I suppose you’re right. I guess I will be able to describe the sight of dragons in a matter of days”. Unlike before, the tone of fascination had all but disappeared, knowing the subtext of dread. Their conversation had all but diminished.

“Make sure not to tire yourself out. Collect some rest, whilst you still can” she spoke, and she caught the tone of concern laced in it. He nodded, gracing her with a small smile that he so usually wore and his usual response "M'lady" which for some reason set her heart aflame. _She liked it._

As she walked away into the hall her thoughts lead her astray. She cared for the man, and he was caught in her grasp long before she’d noticed him being in her thoughts in the first place. Her thoughts, although unbidden, couldn’t help but worry. She knew the Dragon Queen rode her for the sole purpose of fighting the common cause. That cause was a threat to all of those who she holds most dearly.

The dead were coming.

_Collect some rest, whilst you still can._

She shuddered at the thought of what her words implied.


	2. Chapter Two

Before long, Winterfell had become utter chaos. Rows upon rows of Unsullied, Dothraki, Northern Banners, all flocking the castle ramparts. Flocks of women, children, elderly, all housing themselves within the walls, trying their best to shelter from the cold. Logistically, this spelt a chaotic time for Sansa, attempting to feed, clothe, shelter, arm. The list never-ended. Since her brother’s absence, all of the organising had been left to her, although she did not feel as if she could place the responsibility on anybody else. She even had to admit she quite liked making the decisions herself, giving her a sense of purpose in a way which she had never had the luxury of knowing.  

 

Sansa stood at the ramparts, watching as the Queen’s company and her brother drew nearer, but her gaze was caught by something in the distance. Dark wings. A thunderclap striking the air. That roar.

 

Sansa’s eyes narrowed as she struggled to catch sight of the twin beast’s, within the matter of seconds doubling - tripling in size, as they flew nearer. Podrick, standing not ten paces watched Sansa carefully, as if in preparation of something to happen. But whilst the Lady stood still, in awe, something in her gaze looked almost petrified in the same manner. Not a word was spoken as she watched them fly overhead, left speechless. Her eyes quickly met his, as if remembering their conversation not three days prior, but he could’ve almost sworn he had imagined it, as within a matter of seconds she turned and nodded to Lady Brienne, understanding to gather everybody.

 

As a company, Sansa, her siblings, her advisors, guards, and household, all gathered in the southern courtyard, awaiting the arrival of Daenerys Targaryen, and their king. Although one sideways glance told her Arya was not in their company. The thought made her smile, thinking of the last time the Stark’s had welcomed a large company from the south.

 

They all stood in relative silence, awaiting the Queen. In cantered her brother, _their King_. Although, Jon’s title, much to Sansa’s dismay, was up for contention. _He’d thrown it all in for her after all._ She could not help herself as she let out a sigh of relief, not believing he would be safe until she could see for herself. Until she held him in her arms. _She had thought him lost, almost too many times since he had left._

 

Sansa finally caught sight of the woman from over her brothers shoulder, and the stories faming her beauty did not fall short. Draped in robes of snow white, cut with streaks of red lining her furs, almost like a river of blood. Her hair was as white as porcelain, the same of the famous stories of Targaryen. Their lines kept “pure” to keep this trait. Her eyes were large, expressive, but steely. She stood there, next to a man Sansa did not recognise. Although he seemed as a man who had graced from the Andal’s. There was not a foreign look about the man. Clearly a trusted advisor.

 

“Where’s Arya?” Jon asked, apprehensive to see his dear sister.

 

Without taking her eyes off the Dragon Queen once, Sansa responded calmly “Lurking, _somewhere_ ”. Jon followed her eyeline, impatient for her sister to meet Daenerys. He turned, and nodded towards her, stealing a small smile, as if to reassure her. But she did not need reassurance, that much Jon was certain.

 

As she walked closer, Sansa noted her relatively small height. The stories had made her seem as large as life, as fierce-some as the Targaryen’s of old. But upon first glance Sansa saw her as a woman, barely older than she, with large violet eyes, a sparkling in them that led Sansa to believe her kind. _Could she bend the knee and forsake all for this woman?_

“Queen Daenerys, of House Targaryen”. Sansa could almost physically feel her present company around her bristle as she drew nearer. “My sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell”.

 

“Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark” the woman finally spoke, her soft tone surprising Sansa. She did not know what she would sound like, but this smaller woman, standing before her, as delicate as glass, was certainly not it. She almost expected a woman more reminiscent of Cersei Lannister, perhaps taller and broader in build. She apparently rode her dragons as if they were horses, raining fire down below. The picture was hard to imagine.

 _“It was not me that invited you into our home”_  was what her mind guiltily quipped back but Sansa held her tongue, not yet certain of what she was up against.

 

“The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed. As are _you_ ” she added, a warm smile making her features all the more pretty. _She really was a striking woman._

Podrick could only glance at the back of Sansa’s head but he could almost hear what was running through her mind. _Pretty words, thinly veiled behind a dragons teeth._

Sansa chose her next words carefully, not yet willing to betray her true feelings but enough not to give this Queen the wrong idea about where she stood. “Winterfell is _yours_ , Your Grace”. She could’ve sworn the words made the light in her pale violet eyes die, if only a little. Daenerys even looked as if she were about to rebuke. It made Lady Brienne bristle, but before another word was spoke Bran simply stated:

 

“We don’t have time for all of this. The Night King has your dragon, he’s one of them now”. Sansa clenched her fists, cursing Bran for not handling this with any deft words. Although it was not in him to spin pretty words. He was something else entirely now. “The wall has fallen, the dead march south”.

 

Sansa glanced to her brother Jon, the colour draining from his face as he turned to her, as if to ask “ _Is this true?_ ”. Her silence was enough of an answer.

 

She could not sleep the night prior as Bran had told her of this. The dead would be at Last Hearth before long, and time was not on their side.

 

_-_

Podrick had found her wandering the rampart’s of Winterfell’s walls the night prior, at an abnormally late hour, weary from his night duty and on his way to sleep. They all took turns watching the gates, even Lady Brienne volunteered some nights.

 

He did not wish to approach her, partially in case she wished to be alone, but the fates were against him passing by silently as his foot caught a propped up shield, left astray leaning against the wall. He silently cursed himself as the noise made Sansa jump. He sheepishly held his hand up, knowing it may look as if he were stalking her. “Apologies, m’lady. I did not mean to frighten you, only tryin’ to –“

 

“It’s quite alright Podrick” she replied, letting out a shaky smile, somewhat relieved that it was him. He propped the shield back up, still half-embarrassed of what a fool he must look, and wasn’t too sure what to say next. The silence was long enough that both in an attempt began speaking at the same time.

 

“How was –“

 

“What are you –“

 

They both smiled, a little abashed.

 

“I was only meaning to ask what has you up at such an early hour, my Lady?” he prompted, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

She did not wish to lie to him. He would know soon enough what the cause of her distress was. But choosing her words was easier said than done. Podrick noted the shift in her demeanour, and with a concern so laced in his tone that it made Sansa’s heart ache he asked “Has something happened, my Lady?”.

 

God’s he was so good. It was almost too much for her to bare.

 

“It’s just my brother, Bran. H-he was at the heart tree in the Godswood, doing his -… warging. I’d seen him there before, and he saw something. A- a vision, or something that has passed, or is happening right now. I’m not too sure how this whole ‘Three Eyed Raven’ thing works”. Podrick in the meantime paced closer, to join her as they slowly paced in and out of the castle walls, patiently waiting for her to collect her words. “He saw The Wall, crumbling to pieces by an… undead dragon. He says the dead march south, and at quick pace”.

 

Podrick was not sure what he had expected, but that certainly was not it. His heart dropped so low that it almost caused him pain. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upright. This was not good.

 

“We need to tell Lady Brienne” he immediately offered, but knew his pathetic attempt at helping would do no such thing. How on earth could that prepare for something like this? Jon always said that the dead were upon them, but she half-convinced herself that it would never happen.

 

He glanced beside him and consumed by her own thoughts, she probably did not know tears were forming, giving her ice blue eyes a glassy film. The tears did not spill, simply lay suspended. Sansa did not seem to notice nor care. She just looked exhausted. It took all Podrick had to not take her hand, hold her, do anything.

 

He knew he could never do that.

 

Without another word the two silently descended the stairs, Podrick offering to escort her to her wing, but Sansa politely declined “I’ll be quite alright Pod. I just needed to get some air is all. Get some rest”. She had not even noticed as the words came tumbling out until they were said that she had called him “Pod”. She felt a little embarrassed, a little abashed. She hadn’t had that odd feeling for quite some time, reminding her of a simpler time before King’s Landing.

 

Podrick’s ears pricked up at the use of him shortened name. Few had shortened his name like that, and the way she had said it made him forget the previous tension, even if only for a second. The way she spoke his name was a gift he had not known that he needed until she said it.

 

“Uh – very good, m’lady” he managed to stutter out. He hadn’t stuttered in her presence in quite some time past now, and it secretly warmed Sansa’s heart a little, making her forget her troubles.

 

Before she knew what she was asking the next words tumbled out of her mouth “Sansa”.

 

She realised her tone was abrupt, by the perplexed amusement on his features. He looked so handsome when he smiled that way, as if jesting with her. “I’m sorry, m’lady?”.

 

“Call me Sansa” she realised as the words came out it sounded as if she were _ordering_ him and that was the last thing she ever wanted from him. She did not ever wish to take advantage of him as she assumed many had some before. “ Only I would _prefer_ it. We are friends after all, are we not?”.

 

Her saying it out loud like that made it all the more real for him. So he had not been the only one wishing for friendship. The thought made him smile, a little shyly. “I suppose your right, m’lady”. She gave him a pointed look, and he continued. “Only, it’s just – well, I don’t think the other lords and ladies would appreciate if I were to address their liege by first name. Would be very improper”. She thought she caught a small hint of amusement in his tone, japing with her.

 

“Well, no I suppose they would not approve of me playing favourites”.

 

“Of course not, m’lady”.

 

“Then in present company alone? You allow me to call you by your first name” she suggested, clearly not letting the matter drop, which caught Podrick off guard. Despite their relative casualness around each other, he knew the gravity of her power and position, and whether she chose to blissfully ignore it, Podrick was not certain.

 

He then suddenly felt as if he were treading on very thin ice.

 

“If you insist, m’- _Sansa_ ” he kindly smiled, no mirth nor false pretences in his tone. Just a man standing in front of a woman. _A friend_ , he had to remind himself.

 

With as much of a satisfied smile as she could manage, she turned, clearly seeing the matter at hand dealt with, leaving Podrick perplexed by that interaction, and as tired as he may have been from a night watching out of a dark expanse, his brain would not let him rest after that event.

 

As he attempted to shut his eyes, the good was swirling with the bad. The thoughts of what was to come haunted him as he shut his eyes –

 

_And yet –_

Striking blue eyes, arched with a smile stared into his closed eyes.

 

_Call me Sansa._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I slipped and heres a new chapter! Thank you for all the lovely reviews.  
> Uploads may be a little sporadic this week because I'm in the middle of exams (I really know how to pick my moments), but will try my absolute best!
> 
> Also still unhappy with my summary... so will be looking at improving that. Who else struggles with story summaries?


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I wanted to focus more on simply the key relationship, and I felt there were a few things that needed addressing, which I've begun to unpack.. Enjoy! Leave reviews, thoughts, anything really, its greatly appreciated!

Tensions were rising amongst the many that were held within the walls of Winterfell. It felt like a great string, pulling and pulling, waiting for the fibres to break. It would not be long now, not long according to what Bran foretold. Once news had reached the ears of all, from guards, to lowly chambermaids of the dead’s impending march south, it felt as though they were all simply waiting to _die._

 

Sansa, although she tried not to think it, felt at times the exact same. She could not fight, could not hold a shield, could not protect everybody. She knew as she walked past rows of faces, that some, if not all, would likely never see the spring. Would never taste the warmth of the sun, see the leaves bud from the trees, never smell green grass after rain.

 

She counted herself among them, although her face would never betray it. She would be strong, calm, reassuring. If there was one last good thing she could do on this _godsforsaken_ land, it would be to redeem herself. Become the woman she always knew she could be. If the time came, she would know she did everything in her power to make this world a better place.

 

And so she did. She had not slept a wink since the arrival of Daenerys, not when there was so much to do. Feed the soldiers, clothe to children, armour the young men, old men, the women – anybody who wanted to fight. She prepared meals with the kitchen maids, washed linens, carried barrels. Made herself useful in ways which she had never deemed proper. Septa Mordane would be rolling in her grave but i _t was not the time for propriety._

When Sansa wasn’t concerning herself over this, it was instead placed in her continued wariness of this new Queen. Although she smiled, she had this air about her, one that unsettled Sansa. It seemed she was not the only one who did not warm kindly to this woman, already talking as if she was the one on the throne. _But she wasn’t._ Sansa was still adamant that they had all underestimated Queen Cersei. This so-called Lannister army she planned to send north. No word had arrived, no ravens sent of their whereabouts. As the days would draw to close Sansa _knew_ that she was right, although probably for the first time in the most reluctant sense.

 

“Lady Brienne” Sansa called from the wooden balcony, choosing to call for her as she paused in sparring with young soldiers, Podrick amongst them. Brienne nodded and understood her call, diligently as ever approaching her lady. If there was one person Sansa could trust, it was Lady Brienne, and by forfeit she therefore trusted the lady’s squire.

 

“I entrust that plans are being arranged for allocating these men to battlements?”.

 

“Yes, my Lady. A small council meeting on the morrow to discuss these plans amongst ranking officers and in the presence of the Queen’s advisors” Brienne replied. She glanced upwards from over-viewing the courtyard to judge Sansa’s face. A shift appeared on the young woman’s face. “You were not informed of this? My apologies, my Lady”.

 

Sansa grimaced slightly “No, it’s quite alright Brienne. I can almost assume that Daenerys ordered this meeting?”. Brienne noted that Sansa had not addressed Daenerys as _Queen._ She almost had to bite back a small smile despite herself. _Ever Catelyn Stark’s daughter._ She had grown into a sharp woman, made sharper still by her looks.

 

The woman turned to face back over the North courtyard, watching the young Northern men and woman train, guided in part by Brienne’s squire. They stood in relative silence, as two individuals who only felt the necessity to speak in each other’s presence when absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was because their _friendship_ was built on such a level of trust that no pretty words needed to be spoken. In truth, Sansa had arguably never had a more loyal friend, and for that she was eternally grateful.

 

It caught Sansa off guard when Brienne spoke again after some minutes in silence. “My Lady, forgive me if I have overstepped in asking, but there’s something of utter importance which I feel needs addressing, if you would hear me?”.

 

This statement alone baffled Sansa, and she was almost afraid Lady Brienne would say something rash, or _gods forbid_ proclaim that she would retire her services. _She would never leave at an hour such as this._

 

“Lady Brienne, I keep you in close confidence so that you may ask me of anything. I trust your opinions with full clarity”. Lady Brienne was caught off guard by this, making her heart warm.

 

“I-I thank you, Lady Sansa. That means a great deal to me” Brienne thanked, turning towards the younger woman, who in truth was not too much smaller than she. Brienne took her silence as permission to carry on. “It’s just ever since we have arrived back, something about you seems _different._ Truly, I had not noticed, not until _Lord Baelish’s_ absence was noted”. Lady Sansa sucked in a sharp breath. _How could she have forgotten?_ It seemed nobody had informed Lady Brienne, and she felt a fool in it having been two weeks past and having not informed her closest confidant. She was certain she had informed Lord Royce.

 

“Oh. Lady Brienne” Sansa turned back to the woman beside her, eyes pulled away from admiring Podrick’s fighting. _He had improved, despite his unwillingness to admit it._ “I am _truly_ sorry that I did not think to inform you as soon as you had arrived… Lord Baelish – _Littlefinger_ – he was charged, tried, and executed in your absence”.

 

Whatever Lady Brienne had expected – Sansa sending him off to the Vale, to the East for services, _whatever_ – it had not been in this.

 

“M-my lady?” was all she could manage, still trying to understand.

 

“I knew you did not trust Lord Baelish, you even said so yourself before you and Podrick and departed on my orders. But that was why I sent you. I learnt long ago that only a _fool_ would trust Littlefinger” unbidden, Sansa’s thoughts went to her father, and her heart broke. “As of my suspicion for quite some time, he was a dangerous man, with a dangerous agenda – situating himself on the throne. Spinning a deceitful web of lies, turning family against family”. Sansa paused to give Brienne time to divulge, and she pressed on, turning to face the northern courtyard once more. “It became evident that was his intent for myself and Arya. He had planted a _letter_ – one which I wrote when I was no more than a child, who would do anything and _believed_ those around her to save her father, rotting in a cold damp cell marked as a traitor. It read as the exact letter that was sent to my brother, Robb, and to my mother. To _bend the knee_ to the newly appointed King Joffrey”. She spoke with a great tone of bitterness.

 

“As you said, Lady Sansa, you were only a child” Brienne encouraged.

 

“Yes – I suppose. But what it signified was something greater. At least – that was what Littlefinger believed. He was fool enough to think that after all this time the love was lost between myself and my sister. He planned on using this letter to divide myself and Arya. When Arya approached me with this letter, she knew, like myself, just who could’ve acquired such a letter. It was not until we confided in Bran, that he spoke of how he saw Littlefinger hold our father at knifepoint. He said ‘ _I warned you not to trust me’_. That was evidence enough of the man’s deceit, but in truth the matter was greater than we had anticipated… had I ever told you of _how_ the war between the Lannister’s and myself truly began?”.

 

“No my Lady, but I heard word in my time serving as your mother’s charge”. Brienne had to be careful. Although Brienne had known of Ser Jaime Lannister’s crimes, she knew she was not at liberty to speak of crimes, now of which could be seen as redundant. But were they truly redundant? A chill involuntarily ran down Brienne’s spine. She catches herself sometimes remembering that despite all that had been established between herself and Jaime – all the months on the road, the gifting of a sword, of Podrick, to honour Lady Catelyn’s pledge – he _did push a boy from a tower_ , witnessing something which he mayhap’s should not have seen. _But he was then just a boy shy of ten. What was he to know?_

 

“It was Lord Baelish that fed information into my mother and father’s ears that a Valaryian steel dagger used in a sloppy attempt to murder my brother in his _sleep_ was by the orders of Tyrion Lannister. This would cascade in seeing Lord Tyrion’s arrest, Ser Jaime attacking my father and his men in the streets, and shedding light as to the nature of Robert’s Baratheon’s _trueborn’s_ , a discovery, which with the heavy hand of Cersei Lannister, would end in his execution. Would end in my mother’s execution, in my brother Robb’s, his wife and babe not yet born. The marriage of myself and Ramsay Bolton. The murder of my little brother Rickon. _All of it_ ”.

 

Brienne was shell-shocked. “But this would mean…-“

 

“Yes, it would mean that it was at least in part Lord Baelish’s wanton desire to set alight a fragile relationship between the Stark’s and Lannister’s. He conspired to murder, to deceive, to betray”.

 

“What would this mean for the Vale?”.

 

“In the hands of my most trusted and loyal advisor, Lord Royce. He was always a man loyal to Jon Arryn, to my father, and in turn to me. He never trusted Littlefinger, _a wise move…_ you see, this was _why_ I could not have you close by. I trusted the man so little that the thought of him undermining our relationship scared me more than anything. I was so worried for interference that I sent you to a place arguably which in any other circumstance _would_ have been more dangerous, if you could believe it”.

 

Brienne let out a huff of laugher “I scarcely believe I can, my Lady. But I must admit I am most relieved, particularly that Lady Arya had confided in you almost immediately”.

 

“I truly wish it could have been different, that you and Podrick could have stayed. Believe me when I saw I wished to have you close by more than anything. But I knew what he was capable of. If he had not gotten to you, it perhaps may have been Podrick…” Brienne had to note that Lady Sansa’s level of care for her squire extended beyond mere acquaintances. It made her heart warm to some degree, with the thought that Lady Sansa had opened herself up to somebody, _a friend._ She could not find a more faultlessly good friend. And yes, Lady Brienne knew how bad it could have gotten. She understood Lady Sansa’s motivations to the fullest. After all, even though neither had to say it, _there was no worse thought than Podrick Payne being another one of Littlefinger’s pawns in one of his games._

 

“I am just glad that you are _safe_ , my Lady” Brienne sighed, shaking out a breath she had not noticed that she had been holding. Lady Brienne did not need to say it as she felt she so much as said it in her words. She certainly was a woman grown, and if anything Queen Daenerys better be certain not to underestimate the Lady of Winterfell. It was clear some of Litltlefinger’s tactics had indeed rubbed off on Sansa in her time under his wing. _It would prove a more deadly and vital skill if she were to ever take helm._

 

Brienne knew in her heart that Lady Catelyn would be honoured to call Lady Sansa her own. Even Brienne felt a swell of pride in knowing she was loyal to Lady Sansa, and that alone was more important to her than anything in her life. _The North needed Lady Sansa, and in turn Lady Brienne needed Sansa._

 

With that, the matter had closed all but entirely and the two companions, as starkly different as night and day, stood side by side watching the scene below.

 

“My Lady!” both turned, unsure just who the young boy was addressing, out of breath and eyes as wide as saucers. “You must come quick!”. Sansa recognised the boy as one of her maid’s boys – _Edrik._ He could have been no more than _ten._ Same age Bran was when he fell. _Same age Rickon was when he-…_

 

“What is going on?” Lady Sansa addressed, alarmed by the look on the boy’s face. He had a kind face, one which was probably not used to smiling a great deal, but Sansa imagined it would light up his face, _just like it had Rickon’s._ Now that she thought of her lost brother, she saw him with his dark curl’s, his small features, slim build.

_Surely the dead had not already arrived. She suddenly felt sick._

 

“No, my Lady Sansa… a man arrived in through the southern gates not ten minutes past... he was _a lone rider_. Didn’t catch his name ye see but I heard whisperings, calling him the ‘ _Kingslayer’_ I believe” Sansa sharply turned to meet Brienne, who’s eyes had a far-off look in them. She looked more shell-shocked than Sansa felt. “He’s been called to the hall, by orders of the Dragon Queen, heavily guarded”.

 

Brienne then snapped out of her thoughts, turning back to Sansa in some deal of alarm, both knowing this would not be a pretty sight. As they walked in synchronisation at some great pace down the ramparts Lady Sansa called “Thank you Edrik”.

 

They walked in silence to the hall, the pair of them, and when they walked in were met with stone cold silence. Lady Sansa took her seat, tentatively beside Queen Daenerys, who looked as if she were about ready to feed on her prey. It seemed Jaime Lannister had not been ushered in, and the implication that he was _alone_ did not bide well for any of them, for their army, for Westeros…

 

_and certainly not for Ser Jaime Lannister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllll shit. I felt annoyed that Littlefinger was literally never addressed again and so I wanted to play with the idea that Brienne finds out (and safe to say she's a proud momma). Also I promise that this story will pick up shortly, just wanted to lay the groundwork in establishing characters with heavy dialogue, something which I think we were also robbed of... (but don't come for me HBO or show creators... I love this show more than anything okay... evident because I'm WRITING about it...)
> 
> Also in the show its never truly established that Brienne knows that Jaime pushed Bran out the window... and as far as I know Sansa does not know (but please correct me if I'm wrong). I think Bran and Brienne both know Jaime would be a dead man if Sansa and particularly Arya knew. As far as I know the only ones who connected the dots or who were told were Tyrion, Lady Catelyn, and by redundancy Brienne.
> 
> Next chapter will pick up straight where this chapter left off but I wanted to post a quick chapter for all of those who have been waiting! I apologise it took me a few more days to post this chapter, but great news! I'm now on holiday and will have all the time in the world to post, so you should expect more in the next few coming weeks!


	4. Chapter Four

“When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story… about the man who _murdered_ our father. Who stabbed him in the back and cut his _throat._ Who sat on the Iron Throne and _watched_ as his blood poured onto the floor”.

 

The room was so deathly quiet, and had been ever since Jaime Lannister was escorted in, with a guard of four men surrounding him. Brienne could feel her heart hammer violently in her chest, her anxiety peaking at the sight and was surprised none could hear the _thud, thud, thud._ It pressed violently against her chest, clad in her armour, which at the present time had never felt more constricting. She felt as if she could scarcely breathe.

 

She wanted to yell at somebody – _anybody_ – that the entourage was unnecessary. The man looked wearied, tired, cold, defeated. This was not a man who would lash out and kill. Brienne knew him to be a fool but to walk headfirst into the jaws of the Dragon, _alone no less_ , meant he was not threat. Until two weeks ago every man, woman, and child who stood in this room, and within this castle was in the most technical terms his enemy. An enemy of House Lannister and an enemy to the Crown.

 

_No - He would not be here unless it truly mattered._

 

“He told me other stories as well, about all the things we would do to that man… once we took back the Seven Kingdom’s and _had_ him in our grasp”.

 

Brienne was surprised he hadn’t japed back with a smartass comment. _He certainly would have by now if it were Daenerys questioning her,_ her thoughts betrayed.

 

“Your sister pledged to send her armies North” Daenerys continued, not probed as a question. It surprised the Queen when the man finally spoke.

 

“She did”. He sounded defeated.

 

“I don’t see an army? I see _one man,_ with _one hand_. It appears your sister lied to me”. Lady Sansa from across the room shifted in her seat uncomfortably, and her eyes reluctantly met with Brienne. The young woman knew what Ser Jaime meant to Lady Brienne, even without her trusted advisor never as much uttering a word. It was more speculation, and when Sansa once probed Podrick _long ago, back when they were at Castle Black after reuniting with Jon_ , he seemed to colour and not give a straight answer.

 

-

 

_“Lady Brienne has never…-“_

_“But it’s been implied?” Sansa probed, but did not mean to frighten Podrick. Her tone was levelled, but Podrick knew there was no love between the Starks and Lannister’s. Understandable given their colourful history. The boy truly did not know how to respond. Although he knew Sansa to be kind, there was no telling how she would take_

_“Well… there’s always been talk. Y’know how they all like to talk”._

_They sat in silence, both in deep thought, although neither could decipher what the other was thinking._

_“She loves him” Sansa stated, more as fact than a question Podrick should give an answer to. His sigh had told her enough. “You don’t seem convinced, Podrick? He did after all give her his sword, made her armour, saved her countless times.”_

_Podrick felt as though he were walking on thin ice._

_“Where did you hear that, my Lady?” he asked, clearly a bit shocked – or embarrassed – Sansa could not decide._

_“As you said Podrick, people like to talk” Sansa replied smoothly, a small grin masked behind her eyes._

-

 

“She lied to me as well” Jaime spoke, in a levelled tone. Brienne was surprised he kept his constraint considering the scorning he had just taken. “She never had any intention of sending her army North. She has Euron Greyjoy’s fleet and _20,000_ fresh troops – The Golden Company, from Essos. Bought and paid for”. Sansa quickly stole a glance to the woman beside her, sending daggers to her Hand. She suddenly felt a state of pity for the man. Despite the circumstances by which they were married, and her time there marred with anxiety, with constant fear – he never treated her like the others did. _Nor Podrick Payne for that matter_ , her thoughts betrayed but she pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind.

 

“Even if we defeat the dead, she’ll have more than enough to destroy the survivors –“

 

“ _We?_ ” Daenerys bit back.

 

Jaime looked confused by her tone, the woman clearly missing the point. Why on earth would he be here unless he was here to help? He had a death wish walking within the gates. What more harm could he do that the dead would not already bring with them? They did not have _time_ for this. “I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise”.

 

Brienne knew that tone. He was being truthful. He spoke that way scarcely a few times in her company, one where he lay his truth in her lap all of those years before in the baths of Harrenhall.

 

“Your Grace, I know my brother -” Tyrion spoke, which surprised Sansa. He almost seemed intent on keeping quiet. _It almost seemed as if he feared her wrath. Interesting._

 

“Like you knew your sister” the Queen firmly reminded him, ice dripping in her tone.

 

“He came here _alone_ knowing full well how he would be received. Why would he do that if he weren’t telling the truth?” Tyrion implored, speaking in a low tone to reduce the amount of ears it would catch. He would have preferred a private audience when his brother had arrived, but before he could reason with his Queen she had already commanded a full guard and audience to be brought forward to the great hall. It sent the hairs on the back of his neck on edge when he caught on.

 

Tyrion did have a point, Sansa thought reluctantly. But this was his brother after all. He loved nothing more in the world than he loves his brother Jaime, _that_ Sansa knew for certain.

 

“Perhaps he trusts his little brother to defend him. Right up to the moment he slits my throat”. Sansa caught Jon bow his head, distressed by what was transpiring in front of him. He had not said a word since Ser Jaime was brought forth, letting _his_ Queen take the helm. Tyrion glanced away from his Queen, turning to Jon, giving him a look as if to say _help me reason with her_. But before Jon could so much as calm her down his sister spoke up, and for once in agreement with Daenerys which shocked him _and_ Tyrion, and frankly all that stood in the hall. Podrick especially, who stood quietly off to the sides, behind Brienne, and hidden from view.

 

“You are right. We can’t trust him”. Even Daenerys was a little caught off guard, breaking off her death stare that held Jaime like a vice and turning to the woman beside her. “He attacked my father in the street’s. He tried to _destroy_ my House and family, that same he did yours” Sansa declared to Daenerys.

 

It felt as if Lady Brienne’s world was crashing down around her. This did not bode well for the _stupid idiot_ standing in front of her, who thought waltzing into Winterfell without his sister’s army meant he could do as he pleased. _He should’ve stayed in the south, cowered behind the walls of the Red Keep and waited for the hell’s to rain down upon them,_ Brienne thought bitterly.

 

“Do you want me to apologize? I _won’t_ ”. _Well now he’s really done it._ “We were at _war._ Everything I did, I did for _my_ house and _my_ family. I’d do it all again”.

 

But how could he? The only remaining members of his family were split in two – one a _traitor_ , the other a _tyrant_. As much as he wished it not to be true, _there was no House Lannister._ Not anymore.

 

“ _The things we do for love_ ” Bran Stark spoke. His tone, ominous as always, unsettled the man standing in front of Brienne. No – _it was what he had said that unsettled Jaime._ After that, Jaime could not find it in him to speak. Out of the pure shame. Sitting in front of him was the manifestation of all the bad things he had done in the name of family.

 

_A boy, not yet ten, crippled for his actions._

_A brother, so dear to him, but standing on the opposite sides with opposing Queen’s._

_A Queen, bitter and filled with hatred, seeking revenge over his actions._

“So why have you abandoned your house and family now?” Daenerys asked, conceding that he may in fact not be lying, or here with an ulterior motive. But she wished to hear it out of the proud lion’s mouth.

 

Brienne had entirely thought that Jaime had not noticed her sitting to his left. Either that or when he first walked in he did not wish to meet her gaze – _most likely disappointed, distressed. The wench could not help herself. He could always read her emotions like a book._

 

But this time he looked directly at her, even if only for a moment, but for the both of them felt like an aching eternity. “Because this goes beyond loyalty. This is about survival”.

 

 _So those words she had spoken to him had left a shed of doubt in him._ “ _Fuck loyalty_ ” she had said. Even the words that came pouring out of her mouth that fateful day in the dragon pit had surprised her, but she had never been so _angry_.

 

Yet, she managed to surprise herself further as she felt her legs stand up abruptly, her chair scraping violently loud against the cold stone, that it almost made her wince. But she had to be strong. She had no plan on what to say, but the man was all alone, and her honour told her that if the roles were reversed he would be doing precisely the same ( _possibly foolish_ ) thing and defending the man. Her edge was that she had never spoken with the Dragon Queen before.

 

As if the god’s were guiding her voice she spoke, almost entirely without thought. As if her subconscious knew all along. “I know you don’t know me well, your Grace. But I know Ser Jaime. He _is_ a man of honour”. Feeling the explanation to be weak in itself she knew it was now or never. She had only ever spoken this story to a select few, but knew the time was right. “I was his captor once… but when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to _force themselves_ on me, Ser Jaime defended me… and _lost his hand because of it”._

She still felt remorse over it, truth be told, but felt others needed to know. She could finally speak her truth, and in turn save his. Brienne watched carefully and saw that this statement had had some effect on the Queen. _She was, after all, a woman too. It was something unspoken between nearly all women of this world._

Brienne then knew she had to speak out of turn with Lady Sansa, something she did not please herself in doing. But she felt that her lady at present needed a gentle reminder of just _who_ had sent Brienne and Podrick in the first place to find her and protect her. Brienne knew that Sansa knew of Ser Jaime’s promise, although Brienne had never told her in explicit words. She caught it more in the way Sansa had spoken of Ser Jaime, that time she sent her to her uncle, The Blackfish. She caught it in the way Sansa glanced at her sword, immediately recognising the lion pommel, the ruby, the Valyrian steel. _Ser Jaime’s sword_.

 

“Without him, my Lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armoured me, and sent me to find you to bring you _home_ … because he had sworn an _oath_ to your Mother”. Brienne was relieved when Sansa’s features had softened. Without even needing to search, now that Ser Brienne had moved, Sansa had spotted Podrick, almost like an instinct. His eyebrows were arched in concern, but when he realised she was looking his way he shifted, and sent her a silent nod, trying his best to smile. _He knew she would remember, and make the right choice. He trusted her._

 

The glance gave her enough of an answer. She felt shame in forgetting, letting her past grievances get the better of her. If it weren’t for Lady Brienne and Podrick arriving when they did she knows her and Theon Greyjoy would have been slain, running away from Ramsay Bolton’s clutches, or worse, brought back into his captivity to eternally be his _playthings._ The thought sent a violent tremor down her spine, sitting her upright.

 

She was resolved on the matter entirely when she spoke again. “You vouch for him?”.

 

“I do” Brienne spoke firmly to her lady.

 

“You would fight beside him?”.

 

“ _I would”_ Brienne confirmed.

 

Jaime, meanwhile, had not glanced up once, waiting with baited breath, initially thinking Lady Brienne a fool for ever standing up to defend a hopeless man such as he. Her words however had caught him so off guard that he just had to look up, almost as if he could not believe it. _In all his years of knowing the woman, he had never assumed her to go as far as this._ Unbidden, his heart glowed.

 

“I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, then we should let him stay” Sansa declared, a finality in her tone that send Daenerys on edge, shooting her daggers. Seeing this as a slight against Daenerys personally, she took another approach, unwilling to let the man who betrayed her father roam these halls at free will. _He ought to burn._

 

“What does the Warden of the North say about it?” she probed, ensuring she kept her tone level.

 

 _King in the North,_ Sansa wished to bite back, but held her tongue.

 

Jon took his time, but when he spoke, it made Sansa let out a sigh of relief, for the sake of Lady Brienne. “We need every man we can get”.

 

Jon did not know the man well, had only spoken with him once, and frankly the man standing in front of them was miles from the man he once knew. _He was no golden lion, no proud Lannister. He was an honest man, standing in front of a room of people who wished him dead, but laying forth his last shred of honour for the sake of the Realm._ Not much in those reasonings that Jon could judge.

 

Let the past die.

 

Ser Jaime nodded to Jon, grateful for his support, as much as it had come as a surprise. He turned back to Daenerys, posing her a silent question; _Well there’s two against one._

 

You could hear the snow silently pat against the windows, it was so quiet. Everybody in the room waiting with baited breath to see what the Queen would do. It was clear her actions today would leave a marked bearing on her reign going forth. It was so much more than what it seemed. This was her accepting that the sins of the past could be undone. Even she, _the breaker of chains,_ had made mistakes, all for the sake of her cause. She would have no choice but to concede.

_Her hands were tied. She would have to lose this battle… for now._

“Very well” she said, through barred teeth. A quick glance to Grey Worm – only one of few people in the entire room that she knew was on her side – told him to give the _traitor_ back his sword, and her soldier obliged.

 

“Thank you, your Grace” Ser Jaime bowed.

 

With that finality, Queen Daenerys rose to her feet, beaten by Jon who would not meet her eyes, and had not for the past day. It set her teeth on edge. Not one person would meet her eyes as she left.

 

It seemed she was more powerless in the North than she was anywhere. It seemed like a land at present more foreign to her than Vaes Dothrak had all those years ago. She felt like a fish out of water, slowly suffocating on the air, and all alone.

 

_This was not home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for all the love! Really feeling it!
> 
> I promise next few chapters we'll have more interactions between key characters ;) ;) but for now needed to lay the ground work, because I didn't want to ignore the politics and relationships that Game of Thrones has a rich store of...
> 
> lot's to unpack in the next few chapters... 
> 
> As always, leave your comments! They really help keep me motivated and honestly mean the world to me! :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Sansa have a long awaited catch up after Jaime Lannister is set free.
> 
> And Podrick's heart eyes are showing.

“Where were you this morning?” Sansa asked her younger sister in passing, who she had just caught walking from the forge. _Not the first time she’s caught her around here._

 

“In the hall? Who said I was not there?” she replied, in her smug manner she usually conversed in.

 

“I just didn’t see you… I know I don’t ask it of you but we need to be seen to at least show a little interest on the comings and goings” Sansa reminded her, although her tone indicated she wasn’t lecturing her. Arya sighed.

 

“The Kingslayer arrived with no men, the Queen was displeased, attempted to have him practically _burned_ , and Lady Brienne came to his rescue. That about it?”.

 

Sansa had to hide an amused grin.

 

“You _knew_ he swore an oath to our mother” Arya spoke after a short silence, although not as a question.

 

“She never told me in so many words, no… but _her squire_ did not deny it when I became suspicious when she first swore to protect me… when she saved me from Ramsay Bolton’s men”.

 

Something in that sentence made Arya huff out a breath of laughter and was met with a questioning glance from her elder sister. _Her squire,_ _indeed_. She knew her sister was the smartest person alive, a fact she was in truth proud of, but she could not hide everything. Arya did not miss the way Sansa cleverly avoided saying Podrick Payne’s name. 

 

Being as clever as she was, Arya knew she could not probe her sister about her newfound friend. As much as her sister may wish to ignore it Arya would not ignore what was going on, catching Podrick looking at her sister as if she hung the moon and stars. She would’ve most likely teased her sister about it if she thought there was nothing harmful to it but she paused when she noticed the more interesting finding; the way her sister looked at him when _he_ wasn’t looking. It frankly made Arya quite perplexed, how out of all the men in her life, Podrick Payne, Lady Brienne’s _squire_ was the only one who had managed to sneak under her sister’s wary guard.

 

She liked it.

 

“It was Brienne’s sword which gave it away. I had seen that sword before, on Joffrey’s wedding day – I knew it to be Jaime Lannister’s new _gift_ from Ser Tywin Lannister. Tyrion told me in passing, more as a courtesy, that it was father’s sword – reforged”.

 

“Ice was probably the last thing left of father, and they took it from us, the little –“

 

“They _thought_ they took the last thing father had. Ser Jaime - he gave away his sword for the sole purpose of it being used to protect the last of the Starks. You can say he is a fool for coming here, but you can’t fault him for his poeticism”.

 

Arya still did not look convinced, set in her stubborn old ways.

 

“ _Ice_ is back home, protecting Winterfell” Sansa added, and did not miss the way the hard lines on Arya’s forehead had softened. “Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne, wielding father’s sword, as twins, protecting Winterfell from the dead and the storm it brings with it”.

 

“Two Southern knights facing the dead with the _Sword of the North._ You would’ve  _swooned_ over that tale as a child” Arya mused.

 

Sansa sighed, recollecting the simpler times, when she was still such a clueless fool. “Yes, I suppose it is quite romantic, in its own way”. Though she wishes she could scream at her past self, she recognises now the necessary evil it truly was. Without it she never would have learnt.

 

By this point the two had wandered their way through the gate and before them laid out the North-facing grounds where trenches were being constructed, and men were being trained. The gravity of the situation had begun to truly sink in by that point and a gnawing pain set in Sansa’s stomach. “Will you be –“.

 

“Yes” Arya calmly replied, knowing exactly what her sister would ask, as she too took it all in. “I know it’s difficult, truly I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I were in your position. But it’s important. You know that, though, don’t you?”.

 

Sansa chewed on her bottom lip, chapped from the sharp bluster. She began to taste metal in her mouth as she thought of the fight that was to come. She had bared witness to warfare before, but never on the frontlines. She could only ever truly recollect the stench and suffering. Looking around her she _knew_ some would not see the week out, unbeknownst of how far away the war truly was. Against her better judgement her eyes fell on Podrick Payne, who had his back turned to her as he knocked a man to the ground as he sparred. “Sometimes I just wish… I could do more to protect our family” Sansa whispered, voicing her greatest weakness for her sister to hear.

This gained Arya’s full attention, who stopped walking and waited as Sansa stopped with her. “Sansa. You are doing all that you can, and _have_ done to protect our family… I know I make it hard sometimes to open up… but without _you_ , we’d all be dead already. We’re the last of the Stark’s now, all that’s left”.

 

“I wish I knew how to _fight_. My entire life I’ve depended on others to fight for me”. This comment shocked Arya to say the least, but she understood her sisters anguish.

 

“If we had more time perhaps… but it’s not on our side now. Any day now they’re _here_. You’re role in this is just as crucial as any soldier around us. We _fight_ so we can not only survive, but _live_. Winterfell needs you, Sansa”.

 

Sansa let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. It almost amused her in a cruel way how her sister was the reasonable voice in all of this.

 

A croak in her voice, and a response so quiet Arya would’ve nearly missed it had she not been looking into Sansa’s eyes, she whispered “ _Thank you_ ”. Her piercing eyes, usually so cold and cut of steel, now softened into curves that resembled a smile.

 

The two, as stark as night and day, stood in comfortable silence side by side, only interrupted when Sansa spoke aloud some minutes passed as they watched the scenes around them. “I’m not sure what they’d be more shocked to see; an army of the dead marching upon Winterfell, _or_ the two of us having a civil conversation” Sansa mused, finding all she could do now was see the humour in such a bleak situation. Arya knew exactly who her sister was referring to as ‘ _they_ ’, and unbidden, she smiled, even if only a little.

 

“I sometimes wonder how father would’ve felt about all that’s transpired… Cersei Lannister on the throne, Littlefinger executed, Jaime Lannister fighting with us, The Wall breached, the Faceless men, Jon as King…” said Arya, looking around her with a distant look in her large brown eyes.

 

“The only thing I know for certain is that they would be glad we found our way home” Sansa replied, feeling a lump form in her throat as she once again thought of them. She had been thinking about them an awful lot recently.

 

They watched as the men sparred, and Arya more closely studied her sister who had just taken notice that Sansa was staring in a certain direction- _Podrick Payne_ training some of the men. Arya noticed the way the warmth spread across her features, so subtle that if you blinked you would have missed it, _but Arya never missed anything_. Curious with this she decided to probe a little deeper, pulling Sansa out of her daze. “He’s improved” Arya spoke smugly.

 

Sansa turned, giving her younger sister a quizzical expression. _Oh come on, don’t play stupid with me Sansa._ High off her amusement she added “I met him before, you know. The Hound and myself had just turned back from The Vale in search of you and that’s where we stumbled upon Lady Brienne and her squire. Things turned south pretty quickly as soon she Brienne showed her sword. The lion pommel was what did it for Sandor and before I knew it they were fighting like dogs. Podrick was chasing after me so I knocked him to the ground so he would lose time. He was much bigger than me but I knew immediately he didn’t have it in him to fight and the blow I gave him was enough that I ran away but not enough to actually hurt him. I don’t know why but I didn’t have the heart to harm him… he’s learnt a lot from Brienne since then”.

 

Sansa’s interest was piqued. “He-… they never said that it happened that way…”

 

Arya laughed “No, I imagine he was quite embarrassed… perhaps ashamed that he’d failed to catch me”. Sansa could understand that. She knew Podrick admired his Lady Brienne like nothing else, and was perhaps more family to him than Sansa had intially realised.  _She wondered too of his family._

 

“Why  _did_ you run?”

 

“I was frightened” Arya admitted quite easily “I didn’t know them. At the time the only person left I could trust was myself after I left the other for dead, thanks to Brienne’s handiwork… _things would’ve been so different if I had trusted them_ ”.

 

“Not just for you. I refused Lady Brienne’s services the first time… before I was-…” Sansa could not continue that line of thought. “If there was one thing I could change, _scream_ at myself for… it would most likely be that” _but then I never would’ve learnt,_ she thought to herself.

 

Arya was a girl of few words, only speaking when need be nowadays, which was much to Sansa’s relief. When she was little she never seemed to shut up. A lot has changed since then, and there’s a small part of Sansa that will probably never understand just _what happened_ to Arya. But she was fine not knowing, she could keep her past in the past, just like she was attempting to.

 

The sound of clanging metal seemed to pull them out of their daze, looking discerningly at the scene before them. By this point Podrick had quickly caught Sansa’s gaze, catching herself as had not realised she was still watching his form. She quickly looked away, not missing the small nod he passed her way.

 

“I better head back” Sansa spoke suddenly, catching Arya off guard who was preoccupied studying the Dothraki and Unsullied as they drilled and trained. Sansa straightened, putting on her hardened persona, one which she donned as she went about her duties as _Lady of Winterfell_. It reminded Arya of her mother, truth be told. “Lord Royce is expecting me in the library about now”.

 

Arya nodded to her sister who had already turned and stalked off, and glanced back in the general direction Sansa had been looking, noticing Podrick Payne as he caught a moment’s respite to watch her older sister’s retreating form with a look of longing, but also equally of pain. _Curious,_ Arya mused.

 

He then realised he was being watched by his Lady’s younger – _and frankly more intimidating-_ sister, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, rousing the men around him back into their stances for another round of sparring. Arya didn’t necessarily miss the way his cheeks had blanched red either. A small sly grin appeared on the assassins strong features.

 

_He was in more trouble than he thought._

_He was a man in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine Podrick doesn't have a very good poker face... 
> 
> Up next we have Sansa and Daenerys' showdown (dun dun dun) round one...
> 
> Thank you again for all the love for this fic. I know it's not much and I'm not a very strong writer but it really means a lot that people seem to be enjoying the story thus far. I can promise that whilst it does follow a lot of canon dialogue (like the previous chapter) it will divert at a point veeeeerryyy soon ;) 
> 
> Share the love and leave a comment! I love hearing your feedback.
> 
> ALSO A QUESTION: Would you guys prefer longer chapters because at the moment I'm chucking out 2000-ish words per chapter but if you want more than one scene per chapter please let me know, for the flow of the story?? Need help deciding what works better and what the readers would prefer; one long scene per chapter with more frequent updates, or longer multi-scene chapters which maaayyy take a little longer to write but will be more around 4000-word mark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and a friend are reunited.

There was little that could console Sansa to the idea that Queen Daenerys was truly on her side, _on the North’s side._ Sansa felt like screaming, a pent-up rage, one of which she’d never felt before. She just could not understand the woman, nor Jon’s willingness to call her his Queen.

 

_No – if she were half as beautiful they would not be in this position._

The hardest truth in all was that Sansa was planning beyond the great war. She could not know for certain if there would even _be_ an Iron Throne, a Winterfell – a Westeros. Not if they should fail. It made her hands shake just thinking about it all.

 

Said Queen walking in stone cold silence besides Sansa left those following the two leaders a little weary. Brienne and Podrick had wordlessly fallen in step behind Sansa as they had lately, following her and protecting her, as their unspoken duty. The group walked into the Great Hall, Sansa’s mind still reeling from her conversation with Daenerys that it took her a second to look up and _see_ the man standing before her. She could scarcely believe her own eyes. She had thought him _dead_ after all once word came North of Euron Greyjoy’s attack on their fleet.

 

Overcome with emotion Sansa ran forward in a manner that surprised nearly all in the room – that is all in the room that did not _know_ who this man was, tall, lanky, cold, but strong.

 

“Theon” she gasped into his shoulder, holding the man she owed her life to. She did not realise until she pulled away and noticed a stray water drop trail down his armour did she realise she was crying.

 

Daenerys bristled, caught off guard as some had failed to mention Sansa Stark’s evidently close relationship to this man, merely a mute before her company but an entirely transformed man in _her_ presence.

 

 _She did have friends who would die for her. She could see it clear as day. A man who could’ve run away, live peacefully on the Iron Islands, but here, prepared to die for this woman, for Winterfell._ Daenerys had never felt more alone.

 

-

 

“What happened… when you left?” Sansa asked with great trepidation, following Theon into the courtyard upon the insistence he eat. He’d grabbed a bowl of stew from a young girl, no more than the age of seven and thanked her. Sansa watched him. He seemed different, dare she say it; better, _avenged._ He held his shoulder’s back, and the arch in his brow’s he wore all that time ago had dissipated. He seemed calm, prepared.

 

_A man she knows her father would be proud to see today._

 

“Where did you go?” she pressed softly, now waiting patiently for his reply.

 

“It’s a long tale” he mused, a half-smile on his face. She never would’ve imagined the man would be capable of smiling, not after what that monster did to him.

 

She pressed again “I’m sorry, for what happened to your father”. She felt lame in saying it as she knew they had a strained relationship. He did after all grow up under the charge of another man.

 

“I can’t say I am”.

 

Sansa turned quickly, surprised by his honesty. She bit back a smile, his frankness something she’d found hard to come by as of late.

 

He spun the spoon in his bowl, taking time to choose his words. “I didn’t hear word of his death until I came to Pyke”. Sansa noted that he didn’t fondly refer to Pyke as _home,_ but said nothing of it. “Yara thought I came back to take his place, and was furious for good reason. A lot of good Ironborn had died attempting to save me from -…”. Even after all this time he could not speak his name. It brought up bile in his throat. “We knew once our Uncle held his claim we fled to Meereen with loyalists. _Good men_. It was all settled once we formed an alliance with Daenerys Targaryen… but then you know the rest from there”.

 

“We thought you all-“

 

“Dead?” he offered, saying what Sansa was too polite to speak. “I felt it, could’ve crawled back in my cave once our fleets were destroyed, once Yara was taken. But then _he_ would’ve won”. Sansa didn’t press who “he” was. She almost knew him too well by now.

 

“Your sister has the Salt Throne, has an opportunity on her hands to reclaim justice for her people. But you’re not by her side?” she asked.

 

“My role is not done” he spoke after a moment’s thought, speaking with a finality that left a worried pit in Sansa’s stomach, and knew he did not wish to talk on the matter further. She threw him a worried glance, but his mind was elsewhere. She would give him the respect and not press any further.

 

They stood side by side, watching as the barricades were being built, as boys as young as Rickon would’ve been were being handed dragonglass blades, their eyes filled with naïve trepidation. It pulled a knot in Sansa’s stomach as she studied these boys.

 

“My Lady” the voice of Brienne called from behind, an urgency in her tone, followed, as always, by her loyal squire. She turned and immediately noted that whatever they would tell her next was not good news. It was simply by the look Podrick was giving her way.

 

“What’s happened?” Sansa pressed immediately, a harsh worry line forming on her forehead.

 

Brienne sighed, not knowing quite how to go about delivering this news. But try she did. “Men of The Watch have arrived through the north gates”.

 

Sansa waited for Brienne to continue but the woman appeared apprehensive, and could not seem to find the words. “Yes?” Sansa pressed, the fear evident in her tone.

 

“It appears that The Dead have infiltrated Last Hearth… not one man was left alive” Brienne spoke, anxious as to her Lady’s reaction. Sansa stilled, letting it sink in.

 

She swallowed thickly “Lord Umber?”.

 

Brienne simply closed her eyes; no words needn’t be said. Theon, Podrick and Brienne simply awaited Sansa’s orders, evident that she was to make the calls. A subtle shift overcame Sansa; any fear that glinted in her ice-cold eyes disappeared, and steel replaced them. _There was no time to delay. The North depends on it._ Podrick’s heart ached for her.

_It shouldn’t be this way. But it was._

 

“They’ll be here before day break” Sansa spoke, all shakiness eradicated. “You know what to do, Lady Brienne”. Brienne dutifully bowed and turned, her squire in tow. Podrick shot Sansa a fleeting worried glance and was shocked to find her eyes not leaving his retreating form once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long long hiatus!! But the one consolidation of the world going haywire is that I can ground myself back with some writing. Really hoping to post more frequently and will do so if you guys want me to carry on this story. I have a whole plan laid out, just need the encouragement to hunker down and write it. Hope you are all staying safe and keeping healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> *Canon-complaint (because who isn't complaining on this site)* Set pre-season 8 and follows through and beyond Season 8. Alternative ending. 
> 
> Bascially just giving some love to relationships left unexplored in the show because I adore these characters so much, and so much depth was left in season 8. This is also my first fic on this site!


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